Mirror Touch
by noenvy
Summary: First time it happened, there was a novelty. It was no doubt cruel but refreshing to the team of investigators numbed by petty crimes. They haven't seen a case like it in years. The second time it happened, there was horror. Fearing for the worst, Shelby enlists the help of an old friend to catch this new murderer.
1. Prologue

_Leave me out with the waste this is not what I do_

_It's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you_

_It's the wrong time if somebody knew_

_It's a small crime and I got no excuse_

_Is that alright, yeah?_

_Give my gun away when it's loaded_

_Is that alright, yeah?_

_If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it?_

_Give my gun away when it's loaded_

_Is that alright, yeah?_

The man squirmed, violently at first but slowly lost its vigour, reminding him much of a fish that has been caught.

There will be no mercy.

As the weight settled and tired his arms, adrenaline pumped through veins and he went immediately to work. It's only just begun. Limbs limp dragged through the floors. This time though, he made sure that it is without a trace of a struggle. Short breaths. Humid air wet with the rain earlier. He inhaled deeply.

There will be no mercy.

He hummed as he worked, processing the man without hesitance. Some would find his ease of movement poetic, if they were to ignore the horrifying details. He paused to examine. It was complete.

There will be no mercy.

Soon, he modeled the body the way he wanted, the way he had imagined the man laying before he so ruthlessly uprooted him from much earlier.

There was no mercy.

_Leave me out with the waste this is not what I do_

_It's the wrong kind of place to be cheating on you_

_It's the wrong time she's pulling me through_

_It's a small crime and I got no excuse_

_Is that alright, yeah?_

_Give my gun away when it's loaded_

_Is that alright, yeah?_

_If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it?_

"What have you got for me?" Shelby breezed passed the tape with her cup of coffee in hand. The two men moved quickly to brief her.

"Body found in an old house. The neighbour called to complain about the foul smell yesterday." Puck frowned at her sunken eyes after she lifted her sunglasses.

"We think it's the owner." Mike filled in before nudging his partner. She sipped the hot liquid as she scanned the scene.

"Think?" She looked at them for the first time that morning and Mike could see why Puck was so concerned. The chief looked like she hasn't slept in days and she probably hasn't.

"Well, the face was really swollen but the clothes seems to match." Critical eyes swept through the sad living room. It doesn't escape her how many similar living spaces she's visited. It was always the lonely ones.

"He looks like he lived here alone."

"That's because he does. Mark Torres doesn't seem to have a love life according to the neighbours. Been living here for 8 years and rarely have any overnight guests. Lost his job as a supervisor at a gaming centre four years ago. He does odd-jobs mostly plumbing to sustain himself these days."

There it was—the signature. The investigator closed her now tired eyes to collect her thoughts before cussing.

"This is just fucking great." A hand stilled her just before she left to deal with red tapes.

"It's the same guy."

"I know." She gritted. If looks could kill. . .


	2. Chapter 1 : 9 Crimes

"Thank you so much for it." An excitable blonde with fringe half covering her eyes blurted as Santana handed her the signed book. She looked no more than a high school senior with her adorable black spectacles slipping from her nose.

"No problem. I'd recommend the café at the corner of this block by the way. The food there is absolutely amazing. Hope you enjoy the rest of your trip."

"Thanks again. Bye!" Santana chuckles as she waved back. It still amazes her how wide the spectrum of readers she has. She tilted her head back and a loud crack was heard as she rolled her head while rubbing her sore neck. It was still worth it, she smiled to herself. The brief reprieve was over with another presence made known.

"Hey, I'm a huge fan of your work—especially this one. I was wondering if you could sign it for me." The radiant brunette handed a worn copy of her latest thriller over and the author's smirk grew with a naughty glint at the corner of her eyes. This was another thing that made all these traveling worth it. Santana has never had so many cute girls come up to her, albeit to sign a book but still it was a good start and certainly beats having to come up with a clever pick up line every now and again.

"Sure. It's what I'm here for anyway," She purred. And it gets the response that she was looking for when the cute brunette's eyebrows rose in delight.

"Mmmm.., I have to ask though, why nine crimes? Was ten too clichéd?" The curious brunette bit her lower lip and Santana didn't miss a cue to stare at it before chuckling lowly. She _really _does need to get laid.

"It's named after a song really by Damien Rice."

"Oh my God, I love that song. I used to play that song over and over again while I studied in school," She enthused. They stared at each other for a second longer before the moment was interrupted by a throat clearing nearby.

"Right. Thank you for this. It was lovely meeting you." Santana licked her lips.

"You too. Have a good day, Marley." For the second time that day, her eyebrows rise.

"How did you know?" Her pitch higher than usual when she asked.

"It's scribbled on the front." She blushed at the obvious reply.

As she walked away from the booth and the long queue that was still forming, she read what Santana wrote in her book.

* * *

"_How can we face Him when the society we live in now have deemed sins like homosexuality something to be proud of, something that they parade around like a bunch of peacocks."_

Santana gasps and groans when the body pressed firmly behind her, effectively pinning her to the door as eager mouth sucks, licks, and bites the length of her neck and shoulders. She moans loudly just as Marley's teeth sink into the part where her neck meets her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered open when those lips parted from her skin with a pop.

"You should open the door. Wouldn't want the neighbours to catch us now, would we?"

The writer playfully rolled her eyes before turning her attention to do just that. They met up for drinks earlier and Marley had been significantly flirtier than she anticipated. It wasn't until long that offer of coffee at her place was met with a naughty smirk.

"_These sexual perversions are merely a gross abnormality, nothing but a horrible cancerous tumour in the body of society."_

Right as she unlocked the door, the locks next to hers began rattling and they giggled hysterically before entering the apartment. They did finish almost two bottles of red wine after all. Before she had the chance to say anything, Marley had grabbed and turned her by the arm. Those swollen lips attached once more to hers and they stumbled across the carpeted floors to the bedroom, leaving articles of clothes along the way with giggles that filled the pause in kisses.

It wasn't before long that they were both naked. Half covered in sheets, her lips roamed the young woman's body. Santana's thick locks trailed and ticked her body as she covered her stomach and chest with wet kisses. She slowed. Her eyes seeking approval as she moved downwards. Marley moaned her reply when the writer sucked the flesh of her inner left thigh, so very close to where she ached for her mouth.

"Please, Santana…" And that was all that she needed.

"_One simply cannot be both homosexual and Christian at the same time."_

"Oh, fuck. God!"

Wet tongue licked her lips. Santana moved to exhale warm breath onto the swollen flesh in front of her, causing another low moan from the young brunette. She stalled. Wearing a teasing smirk, Santana waited for the frustrated response.

Marley looked at her and her confusion turned into irritation. She was done begging. Her hand reached down to pull the head and guided those lips to where she wanted them.

"Lick me," She said haughtily. Two can play at this game.

"_It is a chosen behaviour, not inborn like others would like you to believe."_

They were both breathing hard. Short breaths. Then, giggles from the younger woman.

"Did you just come?" Her disbelief shone through. She had never met anyone who could have an orgasm by just performing oral sex. Sure, she's heard stories but never thought too much about them.

"Mmmmmm. . . Maybe," Santana purred, resting her head on the same pillow.

Her fingers caressed the smooth and slightly damp back slowly. It was quiet.

"Can you touch yourself?" Just as she thought nothing can surprise her more. If you told her this afternoon that Santana Lopez would be making her see stars with her mouth, then she'd proclaim your insanity. Now, on top of that, this goddess is requesting for her to pleasure herself in front of her. She blushed even more than she already was from the high.

"_As such, they can be set free from it but only if they chose God. Choose Him."_

"Oh my God. Fuck. Fuck!" Marley's eyes were shut in deep concentration. She could feel Santana's eyes on her and the hot, short, equally desperate breaths showed her how much the writer was enjoying the show. She sped up and felt the familiar coil winding on her lower abdomen.

They came together and this time she was sure, this was unusual. Marley doesn't question her though. Not when they were snuggled close and she feels more satisfied than ever before.

"_At the same time, we cannot condemn these people—Jesus never did that."_

Tanned hand wrapped around her and she reached over to place a kiss on Santana's sweaty forehead.

"_He showed everyone He met respect for the person they were, however they bathed in sin. Jesus never belittle anyone."_

They spooned that night. Even though they knew it was more than likely a one off event, it was incredible.

* * *

The mourning family gathered in the church as the service begun. The priest gave a passionate eulogy, detailing the character of the deceased, even drawing tears from his family members and friends. As the open the casket for the viewing, a sobbing woman—the first to go up to say her final words, stopped. Her face ashen and she screamed.

"What do we have?" Their captain strolled into the Catholic church where people in almost all black outfits were taking pictures and collecting evidences.

"This body was switched with one of the deceased scheduled for funeral service. Similar mutilation with the previous two," Puck briefed her.

"Similar?" Shelby caught his choice of word and prompted for more details while sipping her hot coffee. It didn't matter that it was already a hot afternoon. She always needed a cup of piping hot coffee to get through these horrid sights.

"Well, the edges of the skull were not as damaged as the other two. I'm guessing he didn't use a saw this time. The cut looks … _neat_." She turned to Mike and raised her eyebrows.

"That's not good news then," Shelby muttered to herself as she stalked away from the two detectives.

* * *

"Listen, I might be bringing someone in to weight in on the murder. I need to get your full cooperation. No bullshit when she comes around, alright?" She stared at each of them in the eyes and got each of their agreements.

Tension was running high in her station and the friction between her partnered detectives increased annoyingly enough and she was tired of their snapping at each other for missing something. The cases were stressing everyone in the station. They needed to work together, not against each other. Sure, they had murders before but nothing quite this bad. Certainly not one that stumped them as much as this because three murders in and they still cannot figure out how the killer is picking them. The same mutilation and obvious rage in the first two suggested that it was personal somehow and the latest victim showed that he was evolving. They needed to work quicker than this and Shelby has run out of excuses in her head not to ask for help. Especially not when she knew the help was so nearby now.

"I need a favor."

"Hey, how are you? Yeah, I'm good!" Santana mocked.

"Please, Santana."

"Sure. What'd you need?"

"Can you come by the station noon tomorrow?"

"Shelby. . ." Shelby interrupted her incoming declination.

"Santana, I need your help." A very loud sigh rang through the phone.

"Fine. You owe me now."

"Of course. See you tomorrow."

"Oh, Shelby. How did you get my number? I don't remember giving it to you, or anyone other than …"

"Your mom." Both women chuckled.

"Is there something going on between you two? Because you'll be a hot step-mom and all but I have to face my dad later and I don't want to be caught in this hot steamy affair of yours," The writer teased.

"Don't be ridiculous. Your dad was there as well."

"Ew. Gross."

"Goodbye, Santana."

"Ciao." Santana smiled briefly at the phone but a frown soon replaced it. This is _not_ good.

* * *

"Here," The older woman passed the beverage over to Santana.

"Mmmm… Chai latte tea. My favourite. Thanks," The women took a sip each from their cups while staring at the huge whiteboard in front of them. They were early. Santana couldn't sleep much and decided to come in early. Shelby was already on her way to her coffee run when she called.

"The team will be here soon enough." Trained eyes glazed over the information, taking in the words like she was trained from young.

"The first victim was trans?"

"Yeah. Pre-op. Goes by Samantha Hoult but we tried to trace back her background and found the real Samantha buried in Ohio."

"I suppose there's no dental records?" Shelby gave her a look that said, _come one._

"Mmmm. Well, she doesn't seem to be living big with her new life and the real Samantha was old money. Jane Doe could've easily booked out a sweet life for a few years before moving on again."

"I know. Her credit is pretty clean and lives by teaching kids piano. Very quiet life. The neighbours said she doesn't date much."

"Then you should look into who sold her those ids. She probably just wanted to live a quiet life as a woman. The ids look professional. " Shelby nodded in agreement.

"What about Mark Torres? He gay?" Santana's eyebrows lift and Shelby tried to hide her smirk.

"If only it were that easy. I can't say for sure. Like Jane Doe, he doesn't seem to date much either. Did odd-jobs and mostly worked as a plumber for the neighbourhood."

"Well, he's much too clean-shaven to be a straight plumber if you ask me. Huh, even the balls." The older woman just rolled her eyes. Before she had a chance to say more, the rest of the team arrived and soon they were introducing themselves. She can see skepticism in a few of them as they sized up the help.

"Everyone, this is Santana Lopez. We used to work together back in the day."

"Back in the day? Girl, I am not that old."

"Why is a civilian being briefed on the case?" Sebastian asked while crossing his arms defiantly. His partner Finn seemed to agree but then again, he always was a yes-man.

"Because we're heading nowhere and we're running out of time." The captain glared and he had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Look, I'm not trying to step on any of your huge dicks here but trust me when I say I wouldn't be spending my morning looking at these pictures if I didn't think I could help." _Silence._ Santana took another huge sip of her now cold tea.

* * *

"Cause of death of three victims is blunt force trauma to the right side of the head."

"So killer is most likely right-handed."

"How can you tell?" Finn blurted and she struggled not to roll her eyes at him.

"Well, if you'd just let me finish what I was about to say then maybe I would." Santana challenged with a quirked eyebrow.

"The first kill was sloppy. It was all rage. Personal. There were no defensive wounds to the hands and judging from the report, the murder weapon would be pretty heavy to be able to crack the skull open like that. So, it's very likely the killer strike when Jane Doe turned her back, hitting her on the right side. The third victim, Steve Thompson had pre-mortem bruises and cuts on top of a broken ulna—consistent to a defensive stance trying to block the blow. His death blow was on the left side and one plus one equals to two." Shelby chuckled at her dripping sarcasm. She really missed her.

"Now, you said the Thompson was discovered in a church?"

"Yes. Well, his body was swapped with another man that was due for a service at the Catholic church. They only realized the switch when it was time for viewing."

"The only way it could've been switched was at the funeral home right before."

"Bingo, it was reportedly broken into two days prior with nothing but a few scalpels missing."

"Scalpels you say?" Santana's smug smirk made her smile.

"We looked through the place and there was no evidence that the body was mutilated there."

"Could be tools for the next one anyway."

"Wait. He was a pastor?"

"Yeap, from another church nearby. Protestant though. The church he was found in is Catholic." The writer lifted her head and a resounding crack rang. This is _definitely_ a bad idea.

* * *

The two women were lounging on the sofa and sipping red wine after a long day's work. They had found Jane Doe's supplier and subsequently her real identity earlier that day after a few meetings with the local gangs.

"So, we have a trans pedophile or just a fucking sneaky ass bastard creep, a gay half Hispanic-half Irish, and a pretty blue eye blonde hair pastor; and you want me to figure out how he's picking them."

"Yeap. pretty much."

"Shit, Shel. When you said a favor, I thought you meant _I'm really horny so, come on over and make love to me_. I didn't expect you to actually want me to catch this guy," Shelby guffawed, already immune to Santana's incessant flirting even though they both realize how little sexual attraction they had to each other—not after abandoning it all those years ago after an intense impromptu make out session.

"Well, I gotta keep you on your toes." The younger woman smiled lazily.

"You're not that tall. I can definitely reach those lips without standing on my toes."

"Give it a rest, Santana. I only do your parents now, remember?"

"EW. Fucking gross!" Shelby laughed heartily at her obvious look of disgust.

"I really missed talking to you."

"Me too, Shel. Me too…"

* * *

**This is so much more time consuming than I imagined. Even with the outline down, it took me hours to get this down. Apologies for any grammatical errors but I don't think I have the time to look through it again. Well, I should head to bed now. It's 3:30 a.m. here but I wanted to get this out. ****:)**


End file.
